Anyone can run 20 Gigermiles. It's those next six that matter.
Two and a half years ago in early May I was sitting on the back end of my truck at a local park. The day had not gone well. I had just been told in no uncertain terms that the grant my job was being supported by was getting yanked through no fault of my own; in six weeks I'd be unemployed. Oh yeah, and I was expecting a son any day now.
I just ran around the park for a while, no more than four miles. Still, it was brutal and simple running that got me through not only a transition to another job, but those first months of parenthood.
By October I put a two year plan into action to run the marathon. All that careful planning was finally made manifest on Sunday.
Running a marathon is a lot like football - the competition itself is almost completely a shady copy of the quality you put into the training, the practice. There is little luck or gamesmanship left by go time. This summer I put in 537 miles across 20 weeks. Hundreds of hours of stretching and pounding the pavement, focusing the mind and sharpening my wits.
The Detroit marathon has a few nifty features - it traverses into Canada over the Ambassador bridge and then shoots back through the Underwater mile. Along with lots of Detroit's finest neighborhoods, the tail end includes a three mile diversion on to Belle Isle before the final hammering miles back into the skyscraper canyon of the downtown.
Made two mistakes in the last week, sadly. One, I stopped focused stretching on my right iliotibial band which routinely gives me trouble. Jack has been yakking since Thursday afternoon and it really taxed our focus on the last few days, most notably a healthy paranoia of just keeping healthy for the race. Secondly, I forgot my pre-race ibuprofen, which I use to tamp down general inflammation on my long runs.
The early morning was a crispy cool, low 30's and no wind. I actually ended up in the second corral, which felt pretty wild. Burst out of the gate at a loping gait and the short two miles to the bridge ascent.
I ended up tailing the 3:35 group at the peak of the bridge and managed to keep with them until mile 16. It was stunning to think I would have smashed my best half-marathon record by five minutes on my budgeted marathon pace.
In any event, that band of tendons I failed to stretch properly began to flare and I had to let them go. Around mile 19 the 3:40 group passed me in huge numbers and by mile 22 my leg was significantly hobbled, which meant I had to gut out the last 4.2 miles on will. Sucked too - plenty of gas in the tank, just no rubber on the wheel.
A half dozen strong runners of the 3:55 pushed past me in the last mile, I finished with a 3:57:27.
It was a tremendous feeling to cross that line, the entire course minus the bridge and tunnel was flush with spectators donating vim and vigor to the racers.
I think I'll do it again. Uncertain if it fits in next year, but I'll definitely squeeze a few halves in there at minimum.
Running a marathon has certainly given me perspective. Very little I want to do with my life feels insurmountable after that kind of training. The only thing you really need is time and will, which really - what else is a better definition of life?
I just ran around the park for a while, no more than four miles. Still, it was brutal and simple running that got me through not only a transition to another job, but those first months of parenthood.
By October I put a two year plan into action to run the marathon. All that careful planning was finally made manifest on Sunday.
Running a marathon is a lot like football - the competition itself is almost completely a shady copy of the quality you put into the training, the practice. There is little luck or gamesmanship left by go time. This summer I put in 537 miles across 20 weeks. Hundreds of hours of stretching and pounding the pavement, focusing the mind and sharpening my wits.
The Detroit marathon has a few nifty features - it traverses into Canada over the Ambassador bridge and then shoots back through the Underwater mile. Along with lots of Detroit's finest neighborhoods, the tail end includes a three mile diversion on to Belle Isle before the final hammering miles back into the skyscraper canyon of the downtown.
Made two mistakes in the last week, sadly. One, I stopped focused stretching on my right iliotibial band which routinely gives me trouble. Jack has been yakking since Thursday afternoon and it really taxed our focus on the last few days, most notably a healthy paranoia of just keeping healthy for the race. Secondly, I forgot my pre-race ibuprofen, which I use to tamp down general inflammation on my long runs.
The early morning was a crispy cool, low 30's and no wind. I actually ended up in the second corral, which felt pretty wild. Burst out of the gate at a loping gait and the short two miles to the bridge ascent.
I ended up tailing the 3:35 group at the peak of the bridge and managed to keep with them until mile 16. It was stunning to think I would have smashed my best half-marathon record by five minutes on my budgeted marathon pace.
In any event, that band of tendons I failed to stretch properly began to flare and I had to let them go. Around mile 19 the 3:40 group passed me in huge numbers and by mile 22 my leg was significantly hobbled, which meant I had to gut out the last 4.2 miles on will. Sucked too - plenty of gas in the tank, just no rubber on the wheel.
A half dozen strong runners of the 3:55 pushed past me in the last mile, I finished with a 3:57:27.
It was a tremendous feeling to cross that line, the entire course minus the bridge and tunnel was flush with spectators donating vim and vigor to the racers.
I think I'll do it again. Uncertain if it fits in next year, but I'll definitely squeeze a few halves in there at minimum.
Running a marathon has certainly given me perspective. Very little I want to do with my life feels insurmountable after that kind of training. The only thing you really need is time and will, which really - what else is a better definition of life?
